


baby, let's transverberate

by rillrill



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Blasphemy, Catholic Guilt, Confessional Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Prayer, Priest Kink, Religion Kink, Religious Imagery & Symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2014-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-28 04:52:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2719412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rillrill/pseuds/rillrill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. My last confession was two weeks ago.”</i>
</p><p>  <i>“What’s your sin, my son?”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	baby, let's transverberate

**Author's Note:**

> _Transverberate: A reference to religious ecstasy, as in the Transverberation of St Theresa. In "Chicago Seemed Tired Last Night" it is mentioned that "St. Theresa came to Holly" as part of a verse which has certain parallels to "Both Crosses."_
> 
> _The context in which it's used here, combined with both of its meanings (being "pierced by love" and "in ecstasy") makes it seem like a sexual double entendre, which fits with the religio-sexual confusion many of Finn's characters exhibit._
> 
> \- [The Hold Steady Wiki](http://holdsteady.wikia.com/wiki/Transverberate)

_**12:30pm**_  
 _ **On a Tuesday**_  
 _ **Philadelphia, PA**_

“In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. My last confession was two weeks ago.”

“What’s your sin, my son?”

Mac brings up a defensive hand to run through his hair, but finds it sticky and full of product. He swallows, ignores the faint, excited buzzing in his veins. “Last night,” he begins. “My roommate and I came home late, y’know, and we were blasted – like, super wasted. We got into a whole thing at work. Dee and Charlie came in with this plan to get the bar on the news to drum up publicity and it was going really well until Jackie Denardo’s hair caught on fire, so we had to scrap the whole thing and we just got drunk instead.”

“Ah.”

“So we got home and we were just really drunk. And my roommate, you know, sometimes he gets – handsy, I guess. He likes to touch. He touches me, like, a lot.”

“How does he touch you?”

“Normal ways. Hand on my arm, arm around my shoulder, that kind of thing. Sometimes he touches my face.” Mac thinks about it, and adds, “It's not that big a deal. Guys being guys.”

“What happened between you and your roommate? What is your confession, my son?”

“I'm getting there,” Mac says. “We got home and he was really drunk, like, super wasted. So I started to do what I usually do, which is help him get to bed. He gets all shitty with me if I don't. We went into his bedroom and he started – touching me.”

“Inappropriately?”

“He was stroking my face and calling me baby boy and saying I was his big, strong protector.” Mac runs a hand over his mouth, recalls the heat of Dennis's hands on his face, the way his dick had stiffened at the touch and even more so at the words. His spine had stiffened, all his muscles tensed as he tangled with two conflicting instincts. Everything in his mind told him to straighten up and back away, but he could feel himself slumping forward, leaning into the pull.

“How did that make you feel?”

“Make me feel? Dude, are you my priest or my psychologist?”

“I'm interested in what you felt at the time. Was Christ with you in that moment? Or were you openly engaging with sin?”

“I dunno. The second. I didn't want him to stop,” Mac grumbles. “So I didn't tell him to.”

“What happened?”

“He kissed me,” Mac says. “Or - we kissed. Both of us. I kissed him back.”

“Was that the end of the encounter?”

Mac shakes his head. His throat feels dry and scratchy and there's a faint dizziness around the edges of his temples. “We kissed for a while,” he confesses, the words tumbling out quicker now. “It wasn't the first time, I mean. He pulled me onto his bed and took his shirt off. Mine too. And we just stayed like that for a long time. I could have walked away at any point.”

“But you didn't.”

“I wanted it. I wanted to touch him. To let him touch me.”

“Homosexual conduct is a sin, my son. You know that.”

“I know,” Mac hisses. “But he just - I don't know. My mind goes somewhere else when I'm with him. It's like all my excuses, whatever I say, he always has an answer. I told him, by the way, I said I'm not gay, that I don't want to go to hell, and you know what he said? ‘If you're going to hell, it's not going to be because of me.’” He shakes his head. “So I let him - go - on.”

“What did you do with him?”

“He wanted me to fuck him. Like, full on. Totally gay. And I didn't know what to do, so he told me what to do, talked me through all the steps. First I sucked him off, a little bit, and he did me, and then he told me to put my fingers inside him, showed me all the steps...” 

Mac swallows. He's hard in his pants. He puts both hands on his knees and squeezes hard, anything to direct blood flow away from his dick. “I did it. All of it. He made the most amazing noises while I was fucking him open, it was incredible - all breathless and winded and shit. Dude. Dennis can take a dick...”

“Your roommate sounds –”

Mac's hand has drifted up, up his thigh to palm at his dick through his jeans. He lets out a hissing sigh as he rubs against it, letting his head drop backwards to hit the confessional wall. At the audible thud, he glances at the screen for the first time that day. Familiar eyes look back at him, and Mac moans.

“You've sinned, my son.”

“I know, Father.”

“I want you to do something for me.”

“Huh. What.”

“Touch yourself.”

Mac nods, swallows hard. He unbuttons his jeans and thrusts one hand down his pants, freeing his hard cock. He gasps as he strokes himself, slow at first, not daring to look away from the screen. “Yes, Father.”

A low chuckle. “Hail Mary.”

“I don't think –”

“Start saying the Hail Mary.”

“How many times?” Mac asks, tightening his hand around the base of his cock.

“You can stop when you come.”

“When can I –”

“You'll come when I tell you to.”

His eyes narrowing, Mac nods shakily, gathering the words in his head as he begins with long, slow strokes. “Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee,” he mumbles. “Blessed art thou amongst women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb... _Jesus_.”

“Keep going. Articulate.”

“Holy Mary - _mother of God_ \- pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen.” He grits out the prayer, his cheeks aflame, feeling feverish and alive with blasphemy and shame. He runs his thumb along his slit, catching a drop of precum. His heart is beating fast, too fast, like he's on a treadmill, adrenaline-flushed and running hot and debauched.

“Again.”

“Oh, God.”

“That's not how it begins...”

“Hail Mary full of grace the Lord is with thee, blessed art thou amongst women...” He doesn't want to think about women or wombs or Mary or Jesus or crosses or rosaries. “And blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus...”

“Good boy.”

He's so close now, painfully so, his hips snapping forward to meet his hand. “Dennis,” he whines, in spite of himself. “'M so close, Den.”

“Not yet.”

“ _Holy Mary mother of God pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death_ –”

“One more time.”

Mac is almost too far gone to process the command. He lets his eyes slide shut, thrusting into his hand as he chants the prayer out loud. “Hail Mary full of grace! The Lord is with thee! Blessed art thou amongst women and blessed is the fruit of your womb, Jesus!” He's so close, can feel himself careening toward the point of no return. “Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners now –”

“Now –”

“And at the hour of our death –”

“Come for me, son.”

He does. He feels the world tighten and explode around him, strokes himself all the way through, chanting out a litany of prayers and gratitude and apologies all at once.

Mac opens his eyes. His hand is sticky and covered. Instinctively, he reaches down to wipe it on the seat of the confessional, but pulls away before he does.

“Amen,” he says faintly. He makes the sign of the cross with his other, unspoiled hand.

 

*

 

(Later:

Dennis smirks as they sit across from each other at the diner down the street from the old church. He orders for Mac, a cobb salad with chicken, dressing on the side, and watches as his face flushes slightly.

“You're really fucked up, dude,” Mac says casually.

Dennis shrugs, takes a sip of water. “Don’t you want to know how much I paid the priest?”

“Is this another one of your wearing-another-man’s-skin things?” Mac sighs. “I don’t get it.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Yeah. Guess not.” He stabs a piece of lettuce, and Dennis can see the faint smile playing on his lips.)


End file.
